


I Will Soften Every Edge

by losingmymindtonight



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (Peter gives him one), Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Neurology & Neuroscience, Precious Peter Parker, Sleepy Cuddles, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark's Brain Deciding He's Peter Parker's Parental Figure, no I'm not kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 08:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losingmymindtonight/pseuds/losingmymindtonight
Summary: “You’re telling me,” he swallowed, “that my body thinks I’m Peter’s dad?”“And it has prepared itself for parenthood in response, yes.”--After a simple brain scan, F.R.I.D.A.Y. reveals something that Tony already knew, but may not have been ready to accept. Luckily, Peter's always there to help him re-find his footing.





	I Will Soften Every Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bean_reads_fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bean_reads_fanfic/gifts).



> First of all: all the credit for this idea (and all of my love) goes to Bean_reads_fanfic (the-reverse-mermaid on Tumblr) for this idea! I 100% stole it from an ask they sent parkrstark on Tumblr. I really hope you like it!  
> I now know... so much random information about the human brain. Help me. I did so much research.

It all started with Tony being his usual, overly paranoid self.

Earlier in the day, he, Rhodey, and Peter had gone head to head with some rogue sorcerer. It had been a pretty easy fight, really. The guy wasn’t a particularly _good_ sorcerer, just a crazy one. Peter had gotten tossed around a little bit more than Tony would’ve considered ideal (aka: Peter got tossed around _period_ ), but he hadn’t actually gotten hurt outside of a few minor bumps and scrapes.

For once, it had been a nice and easy mission. Nothing went wrong, and the bad guy was defeated and locked up in time for dinner.

But right as Tony had landed beside the kid, offering him a hand to pull him up from where he’d slumped down on the concrete in exhaustion, F.R.I.D.A.Y. mentioned that the sorcerer’s magic _may_ have had the capability to alter brainwaves. So, Tony formed a hasty plan of action.

One: get Peter back to the Tower, make Peter get checked out in the MedBay, send Peter to bed.

Two: have F.R.I.D.A.Y. run every brain scan imaginable to make sure that the bastard had kept his freaky powers to himself.

He’d had his head messed with before, and he was _not_ eager to repeat the experience.

Step one was simple. Peter _loved_ flying with the Iron Man suit, so it was ridiculously easy to convince him to let Tony give him a lift back to the Tower. Then, he’d just unceremoniously dumped him on a MedBay cot, siccing a couple of doctors on him and talking over the kid’s whines of _I’m fine, Mister Stark, seriously._ As soon as he was convinced the teenager had given in and would cooperate, he had wandered into the hallway to give May a call. Once the doctors confirmed Karen’s report of _No Serious Injuries Detected_ , Tony shoved a water bottle and granola bar into the teenager’s hands and pushed him into his bedroom with a terse order to _get some damn sleep, Pete._

And with the most important step of his plan completed, he went straight down to the lab and got to work.

He plopped into a desk chair and rolled it across the room until he was in front of a monitor. “Alright, FRI. Is Pete asleep yet?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Perfect. Use the bio monitors in his mattress along with your regular scanners to run a full health check. Focus on his brain. Make sure there’s nothing wonky going on with it. Put the results up here and I’ll check them, too.”

“On it, Boss.”

He took a swig of his coffee. “Rhodey’s still in the suit, right?”

“Colonel Rhodes’ armor is still in use. He appears to be assisting with cleanup operations.”

“Good. Run the same scans on him, too. Don’t tell him unless we find something he needs to know about.”

“Right away, Sir.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. paused. “I assume you would like me to complete similar procedures with yourself?”

“One step ahead of me, FRI. Yep. Get on it.”

He sat back and watched as a complicated array of vitals popped onto his screen. He swiped away his own (he only cared about the brain scan) but carefully ran through the kid’s.

Temperature was fine considering that he was asleep, 96.3, and he always ran a little low anyway. Breathing rate was good, blood pressure sitting comfortably in the low range, and his pulse was steady and slow.

After going through the preliminary checks that the kid was physically okay, Tony turned his attention to the brain scan.

Peter’s brain activity was a lot slower than his own, which he could see minimized in the corner of his screen, but that just meant he was somewhere in the first few stages of sleep. He analyzed the data by himself for a bit before consulting with F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“How’re they looking, FRI?”

“There appear to be no adverse effects on Mister Parker’s or Colonel Rhodes’ neurological functions. They both appear to be the picture of health, Sir.”

He nodded, relieved. “Peter’s sleeping well?”

“Mister Parker’s vitals suggest that he is perfectly content. There are currently no indications of stress or discomfort. He is in Stage 2 sleep. Would you like me to continue to monitor his brainwaves and alert you as each stage is achieved?”

He smirked at the AI’s thoroughness. “No, that’s alright. Just keep an eye on him for me.” Tony flicked his own scan results onto the screen. “And I’m looking the same as always, I assume?”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. paused. “The confrontation from today has not affected your neurological functions.”

“That’s strangely specific.” Tony laughed to mask his unease. “What did you find?”

“As a simple diagnostic procedure, I compared your current scans against ones I have taken over the past few months and years.”

“And?”

“There are a series of interesting trends in your brain development and other physiological functions.”

Tony spun his chair in a lazy circle. “Which are?”

“Over a surprisingly short amount of time, you appear to have experienced an increase in neural connections in certain areas of your pre-frontal cortex, which is associated with memory and prioritization. In addition, your inferior parietal cortex and your precuneus all appear to have decreased in area. These are all vital components of your default mode network.”

He knew a little about neuroscience, but not enough to puzzle out what _any_ of that meant off the top of his head. “You’re saying a lot of words, and giving very few explanations, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“These are all changes that are associated with the early stages of fatherhood.”

Tony stopped his chair’s rotation with a sudden foot to the ground. “ _Fatherhood_? Do the tests again, F.R.I.D.A.Y., I think you scanned someone else.”

“I did not, Sir.”

“Then there must be another explanation for it,” he rolled his eyes, “because last I checked, I don’t have a child.”

There was a pause, as if the AI was running her words through every algorithm Tony had written into her. “These changes are backed up by compelling evidence.”

“Oh?” Tony snorted into his coffee. “And what would that be?”

“Peter Parker.”

He froze, heart racing but muscles paralyzed. He was distantly aware of Dum-E pulling his mug from his hands before he could drop it. F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s words spun around and around in his mind until the morphed and slurred, until they made even less sense than they had when she’d first spoken them.

“ _Peter_?”

“Yes.”

“Peter’s not my-he’s not-not my biological-”

“This neurological phenomenon has been observed not just in the brains of biological fathers, but in adoptive ones as well. Your specific changes began just a few months after meeting Peter Parker, and have multiplied in the time following.”

Tony dropped his face into his hands. Something deep and sad settled in his chest. “But I’m not his father.”

“Have you not taken on a major role in his life?”

“Yes, but-”

“And would you admit that you see Mister Parker as your responsibility?”

“Of course I do, but-”

“And haven’t many people, including Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts, indicated to you the possibility that your relationship with Mister Parker often presents as highly parental?”

Tony groaned, sweeping a stressed hand down his face. He didn’t even have an argument anymore, because everything F.R.I.D.A.Y. was saying was true. He just didn’t want to see it. “ _Yes_.”

“Your neurological and physiological responses are not constrained by titles.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. displayed the complex results on his screen. Tony stared at them blankly. There was too much to process, too much to try to understand. “It seems as though your body began reacting to something that your own consciousness was not yet aware of.”

“You’re telling me,” he swallowed, “that my body thinks I’m Peter’s _dad_?”

“And it has prepared itself for parenthood in response, yes.”

He was grasping at straws, but he couldn’t help it. _There has to be another explanation._ “But it isn’t confirmed that _Peter’s_ the cause of it, right?”

“Is there another child that you believe may have triggered this response?”

“Well, no, but-”

“There are a series of diagnostics performed in test groups that we can recreate in the lab, if you’d like to confirm our hypothesis.”

“It’s more _your_ hypothesis,” he grumbled, “but sure, FRI. What kind of tests?”

A livestream of Peter, hair mused and one leg protruding from the sheets, popped up on the screen, and Tony blinked in surprise. As he watched, the kid shifted in his sleep, mouth falling open as he shoved his cheek into his pillow. Despite his racing thoughts and shaky hands, Tony grinned at the sight. He was just thinking that he should get the kid a body pillow, or something, when F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted him.

“There is significant growth in your lateral frontal cortex. Certain studies have indicated that this area will show increased neuron activity at the sight of your child.”

Ah, so that _was_ a test. “And?”

“At the sight of Peter, that area of your brain lit up, Sir. You also experienced an influx of oxytocin and dopamine.”

“Aren’t those,” oh, god, Tony had too much pride for this, “well, uh, aren’t those the hormones associated with…”

“These are the hormones primarily associated with love, yes.”

“So I love Peter Parker.”

“Both your actions and body chemistry suggest so. Were you not previously aware of this fact?”

_You were aware. You’ve been aware for a lot longer than you’re willing to admit._ “I suppose I was.” He kicked at the foot of the desk with a silent snarl. “I hate this.”

“Would you like to perform another test?”

He threw his hands in the air. “Why the hell not?”

“I’m going to play a series of audio clips and monitor your brain activity.”

“Sure.”

The first clip played, and Tony winced. It was the sound of a kid _crying_. And, frankly, it didn’t get much better from there. Cry after scream after cry after sob played, over and over and over again. They were a few minutes in when he realized the point.

Because _this_ clip wasn’t just the sob of a random child. It was _Peter_. He knew it from the first second, knew it deep in his soul. F.R.I.D.A.Y. must have pulled it from her security archives, from when the kid had last had a nightmare.

“N-No!” There was a ragged gasp of breath, then a shaky sob that tore Tony’s heart from his throat. “No! P-Please!”

He had to grip the arms of his chair with sweaty palms to stop himself from lunging out of the seat and rushing to find the kid, even while his rational side assured him that it was _just a recording._

Finally, he’d had enough. “Turn it _off_ , F.R.I.D.A.Y.!”

The room fell silent, and the AI brought the livestream of the kid back onto the screen, projecting his steady heartbeat beside the video. She gave him a few moments to calm down before speaking.

“While your vitals suggest that all the clips elicited a negative response, your lateral front cortex was highly stimulated at the sound of Mister Parker’s distress. It also triggered your fight or flight response, as I’m sure you gathered on your own.”

He set two fingers over the image of Peter, watching the steady blip of the kid’s pulse jump and fall along the screen. “Yeah, I did.” He drew in a breath. “Are you telling me that I’m biologically programmed to react to the kid’s voice?”

“Precisely.”

“So the damn kid’s hardwired himself into my brain?” He shook his head, a little hysterical. “I mean, I always said he gets under your skin but this is a whole new level…”

“The neurological changes are not the only reactions to Mister Parker.”

He groaned. _Of course_ it wasn’t enough that his literal _brain_ had changed because of the kid. There just had to be something else, too. “Oh? Please elaborate.”

“Your testosterone levels appear to have declined as you’ve grown closer with Mister Parker.”

Could this _get_ any worse? “You mean he’s unmanned me, is what he’s done.”

“Not at all, Boss. Your testosterone levels are at the lower range of healthy. He’s simply increased your empathy and tendency to form emotional connections. There is even research that indicates that lower testosterone levels can promote cardiovascular health.”

“He’s made me soft.”

“Yes, Boss. That is one way to describe it. It would also explain your exceedingly gentle behavior with him.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest that last statement, and then stopped, because F.R.I.D.A.Y. _wasn’t wrong_. He’d noticed it, too. He’d noticed it in the way the kid would doze off on his shoulder, and instead of pushing him off, he’d unconsciously pull him back in. He’d noticed it in his strange compulsion to brush the hair out of his face, adjust the strings on his hoodies, fix the sadness in his eyes. He’d noticed it in the way Peter made his anxiety settle and still. He’d _noticed_.

Even if he hadn’t wanted to.

Somewhere along the lines, and _without Peter’s permission_ , he’d appropriated the kid as his own.

He swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth. “Can we reverse it?”

“I am not sure I understand.”

Tony gripped his left wrist around the cuff, squeezing until it ached. “Can we reverse it? Change my brain back to the way it was before?”

“No, Boss.”

He pushed out of his chair and kicked it away from him. It tipped over and clattered against the floor, wheels spinning uselessly in the air.

Around and around and around we go. First came Howard, then came me, and now…

_I can’t fuck Peter up, too. I was supposed to stop the cycle. I was supposed to get off this damn ride, make sure no one else ever got back on._

He felt so fucking inadequate that he thought he might choke.

“If I may be so bold, Sir… your distress seems unfounded.”

“Unfounded?” He clenched his fists, swiping the image of Peter off the monitor before it could make him feel any more nauseous than he already did. “The kid doesn’t want me as a… as a…” he bit his lip, “as _that_. What right do I have to it, to _him_?” He ground his palms into his eyes, shocked when they came away wet. “God, the kid deserves _so much better_.”

“Boss, I-”

“Mute, F.R.I.D.A.Y. Everything except for emergencies, alright? Just… leave me alone.”

“Understood.”

The lab fell silent. Suddenly, it was too empty, too big. He stared at the blank monitor and found himself longing for the steady thump of Peter’s heartbeat before he could catch the thought.

The kid was everywhere. He was scattered in his head, and he was scattered in his lab. A pair of tennis shoes in the corner, too worn and too cheap to be Tony’s. Webshooters and vials of fluid on one of the worktables, screwdriver resting dangerously on the corner of the ledge. A note, complete with at least three smiley faces and a shitty signature, promising to bring back Chinese after patrol.

Little pockets of innocence, and they just made Tony feel like a fake. He’d clung to Peter Parker because he was _lonely_.

And the realization made him feel _so fucking ashamed._

His first curled. He wanted to break something. He _needed_ to break something.

Needed to break something so he wouldn’t break Peter.

He ended up chucking a metal bucket full bolts across the room, and they clattered and bounced and dinged off the floor and walls. He stood unnaturally still until each one rolled to a stop.

Somehow, he ended up on the floor. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t really care. All he could think about was the fact that Peter Parker was his kid, and he’d never meant for it to end like this.

(But _meant_ doesn’t always mean _want_ , and Tony knew that better than anyone.)

Peter was something he wanted. He wanted him so, so badly. But he didn’t deserve him. He didn’t deserve to call that kid _his_ kid. Didn’t deserve to call him buddy or kiddo or squirt, or ruffle his hair in pride when he made a good grade or got his first date.

He shouldn’t touch anything precious. And yet his brain had decided, without consulting him, that Peter was theirs. It had _called dibs_.

_Can I stop it now? Can I pull away, let it die?_

(He doesn’t think he can. It’s far too late. Far, far too late for that.)

“Boss?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded hesitant. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but Mister Parker is requesting entry.”

He checked his watch. “It’s midnight. He’s only been asleep for three hours.”

“I believe he had a nightmare.”

Tony jumped to his feet, swiping hastily at his hair and tugging at his shirt in a last-ditch attempt to make himself look a little less wrecked. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“You asked only to be disturbed for emergencies.”

“Fuck.” He cursed, grabbing his overturned chair and righting it. There was nothing he could do about the bolts. Hopefully, Peter wouldn’t notice. “Add that to the list of emergencies, and let him in.”

“Right away, Boss.”

The door slid open, and a disheveled and more-than-a-little agitated Peter came stumbling in.

“Hey, kiddo. You alright?”

He shot his mentor a shaky smile. “Hey, Mister Stark. Is it, uh, okay that I’m here?”

It didn’t escape Tony’s notice that the kid avoided his question. “‘Course, buddy. C’mere.”

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. seemed oblivious to the fact that Peter’s presence might alter their earlier experiments, “it appears that you are experiencing a heightened presence of oxytocin in your-”

“Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he bit his tongue and reached out to tug Peter underneath his arm, “that’s enough.”

Peter leaned into him and tried to peer over at the readings rolling across Tony’s monitor. The genius shut them off hastily before the kid could really process what they were.

The teenager’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Doesn’t oxytocin have to do with your emotions? We learned about it in AP Psych. People call it the love hormone.”

He can’t help but reward the kid for getting it right. “Exactly, Pete. You know which part of the brain makes it?”

“The hypothalamus, right?”

“Two for two. Well done, kiddo.” He guided the teenager over to the couch.

“Why is F.R.I.D.A.Y. monitoring your oxytocin levels?” The kid scrunched his face up in concentration as they sunk into the cushions, and a wave of fondness rushed up to Tony’s face.

_No,_ he thought, _it’s a wave of goddamn oxytocin because at some point my brain decided that this kid was_ my _kid._

“I was just doing a little research. Don’t sweat it, bud.”

Peter’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Can I help?”

“I already finished.”

“Oh.” Tony hated that he hated the look of disappointment on Peter’s face. “Did you find anything interesting?”

He shrugged. “Interesting enough.”

“You’re not going to tell me what it was, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Was it about me?”

Why the hell could he not lie to this kid’s face? He was a _great_ liar. “Maybe.”

Peter curled into Tony’s side with a hum, tucking his knees onto his mentor’s lap. “Oxytocin’s the love hormone.”

“So you said.”

“And you were doing research about me.”

“I didn’t say _that_.”

“You implied it.” Tony could hear the grin in the kid’s voice as he shuffled closer. The billionaire forced himself to keep his hands still, despite the itch to wrap them around the teenager. “That’s _cute_ , Mister Stark.”

“It’s not cute.”

“It _really_ is.” Peter wiggled again, but paused when Tony didn’t react. He craned his head back to wrinkle his brow up at his mentor. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something.” He twisted around and grabbed one of Tony’s stiff arms by the wrist, tugging it around his waist and holding it in place. “See? That one goes there. The other one goes in my hair, and you’ll fluff it up and make a comment about my curls and I’ll pretend to be embarrassed and then you’ll laugh at me. You’re acting like we’ve never done this before.”

Tony let out a rush of breath, dropping his forehead onto the crown of the kid’s head despite himself. “ _Peter_.”

“Mister Stark?”

The small, frightened inflection of Peter’s voice had every single one of Tony’s instincts _screaming_ to _protectprotectprotect._

_But it’s just because of chemistry. Biology. My brain’s wired itself to react to the kid. It wasn’t my choice, and it certainly wasn’t his._

“You don’t want to know, Pete.”

“I do, though. Please tell me.”

“You might not like it.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s about me, right? Don’t I deserve to hear it if it’s about me?”

_He’s right._

Tony swallowed. _It’s now or never._ “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. scan our brains earlier.”

Peter blinked. “Uh, okay?”

“My results were,” he paused, “interesting.”

The kid tensed. “Are you okay?”

He rushed to reassure him. “Yeah, Pete, I’m fine. Nothing’s _wrong_ , really. It’s just… strange.”

Peter sat quietly for a moment, twisting and stretching the cuff of Tony’s sleeve in his fingers as he continued holding the man’s arm around him. “And it has to do with me?”

“Yeah, buddy, it does.” He tried to steady himself, discovered that _that_ was hopeless, and plunged forward anyway. “Did you know that people’s brain change when they form important relationships?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Did you know that there are specific changes for specific _types_ of relationships?”

“What do you mean?”

Tony swallowed back a stressed laugh. “Romantic, platonic, sibling…” He trailed off.

Peter finished for him, realization soft on his tongue. “And parental.”

Tony nodded, neck somehow feeling both stiff and unhinged at the same time. “Exactly.”

“So you’ve made a… parental connection with me?”

“I know, Pete, I’m sorry. I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. if there was a way to reverse it, but-”

The kid talked right over him. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Mister Parker?”

“Can you do what you did to Tony to me, but backwards? Like, check my brain and vitals and stuff and look for a connection to him?”

“I can, with your permission.”

“Go for it.”

They sat in silence while F.R.I.D.A.Y. completed her scans, Peter loose with confidence and Tony keyed-up with anticipation.

“I have the results, Mister Parker.”

Peter shifted so he could watch Tony’s face. “Read them, please.”

“At the sound of Boss’ voice, your stress centers lessen in activity while your reward processes increase. This is the same phenomenon that has been observed in children when they hear the sound of their parent’s voice. You have also been experiencing a steady influx of oxytocin and serotonin since arriving in the lab. These levels have spiked with moments of physical contact or direct attention from Boss. To put it simply: your reaction to his presence appears to be a higher sense of calm, a significant reduction in anxiety, and an overall sense of satisfaction and love.”

Peter didn’t look away from Tony when he spoke. “What was my pulse rate when I came in here, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“129 beat per minutes.”

“What is it now?”

“64. It may be relevant to your point that it began decreasing rapidly at the moment Boss first put his arm around your shoulders.”

Peter smirked, looking massively pleased with himself. “Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“Of course, Mister Parker.”

The teenager gave Tony’s ribs a gentle poke. “See? It’s _fine_. Was that really what had you so worked up when I came in? You got me worried for nothing.”

Tony blinked, slowly processing the information into tentative understanding. “So, you’re saying that…”

Peter’s gaze dropped as he fidgeted nervously. A blush creeped up his neck. “I’m saying that, uh, that it’s okay for you to see me as you-as your, your _you know_ , your kid, cause I kinda look up to you like that anyway. So it’s cool. It’s all cool.”

“Oh.”

Peter rolled his eyes and flopped back against Tony’s chest, nesting his face into the man’s collarbone and sighing with contentment. “Good. Glad we’ve sorted that out.”

“Sorted it out. Uh, yeah. Right. All sorted.”

_How the hell was Peter being so calm about this?_

Tony was jolted from his thoughts by Peter bumping him with his shoulder.

He looked down at the top of the kid’s head, perplexed. “What?”

It took Peter tugging at his arm for the message to get through. “Come _on_.”

He laughed, bringing his arms into their usual spots and letting the familiarity wrap around him. The kid’s curls were soft under his fingers, and he felt warm and comfortable and _right_ in his hold. “Alright, you clingy little shit.”

Peter ignored the comment, humming into his t-shirt. “That’s better.” He relaxed as Tony’s fingers massaged at the back of his neck. “I like it when you do that.”

He grinned, finally feeling the knot in his stomach release. _Peter’s okay with it. Hell, he didn’t even flinch._ “You just like the oxytocin.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not nice.”

Tony chuckled. _I can keep this. It’s okay to keep this._ “I guess it doesn’t.”

For a while, Peter just breathed. Then,

“I had a nightmare.”

“I know.”

“Really?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me.”

“Oh.”

“I would’ve come to you,” his tone was apologetic, “but F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t tell me until it was over.”

“No, that’s okay. I came and found you anyway.”

Tony paused. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

“Can I? Is that-Is that okay?”

“‘Course it is, kiddo. Go on, then.”

It was obvious that Peter had been waiting for permission, because the story came instantly. “I was in this big room, and everyone I knew was there, except you and Aunt May. I kept looking for you, and yelling for you, but you never came. And I started asking people, but nobody would answer. I found Happy, and I begged him to tell me where you were, and he just… looked at me.”

Tony lazily traced a finger through the winds and twists of Peter’s curls, contemplating the kid’s words carefully. “I’m sorry, Pete. I-I don’t really know how to help, but I-” _Should I make this promise? Is it fair?_ “I promise that I’m not planning on going anywhere, okay?”

“It wasn’t your fault. And… that’s not why I told you.” The teenager’s fist curled around the edge of Tony’s shirt, tight and unyielding. “I’m making a point, again.”

“You’re making a lot of those, tonight.”

“You need a lot of points made to you, tonight.”

“Touché.”

Peter shifted. “Do you get the point?”

“Sorry, can you repeat all of that again? I think I missed it.”

“Mister _Stark_.” Tony gave the back of the kid’s neck a gentle squeeze, trying to appease him. “Just get the point so I can go to sleep. ‘M tired.”

“I get it, kid.”

“Yeah?” A yawn. “Wha’ is it?”

“You gonna make me say it?”

“Mhm.”

He grit his teeth. O _nly for Peter._ “I’m important to you.”

“Yup. Nice talk.” God, the kid was really starting to sound like Tony. They’d have to do something about that, or he’d get himself in trouble. “G’night.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but adjusted his grip until Peter’s neck was in a more comfortable position. “Why do you always fall asleep on me?”

“Mm, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Oxytocin is often accompanied by melatonin, triggering the body to sleep while it’s in a safe and secure environment.”

“See?” Peter mumbled, grip loosening on the hem of Tony’s shirt as he drifted off. “Safe ‘n secure. ‘S science.”

He closed his eyes and hugged the kid closer. “And we always trust science, don’t we?”

“Mhm.”

(And if science said that Tony was meant to look after Peter, well… he didn’t have the heart to argue. Especially when he knew that Peter wanted it, too.)

**Author's Note:**

> One day, I'll stop writing sleepy fluff. Is that day today? No. Just a warning: it's probably not tomorrow, either.


End file.
